Red Reversals
by Habeous Corpus
Summary: Who is good and who is bad? Warning: Not for easily scared. :


**A/N- This is going to be one-of-a-kind for me. This was inspired by Wicked the Musical. (The copyright belongs to the rightful owner, which is not me.) If you've ever analyzed Wicked, you kind of know where this is going! Warning: This story may cause nightmares, an irrepressible urge to send nasty reviews/ PMs and/or a desire to slap the author. :D **

**Red Reversals**

Revenge is now mine. All mine.

The man who haunts my dreams. My nightmares. The man who hurt me. Threatened my existence. The man who hurt my family. A wife and daughter, lost in the sands of time. Mine in memory, but never mine in flesh. The last straw…

However, all that is pushed aside. Tonight is the one night. Journey with me. Follow my story. Someone will have to tell it.

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I have my knife. I'm quite skilled. A man from the carnival taught me how. I can do tricks. I can fight. Now, it is the weapon of revenge. The blade almost seems to grow metaphorically into the sword of justice. Lovely, how it glints. My reflection gleams back at me, and I know I am ready. Ready to repay his debts to me. To my family.

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I climb the stairs. One by one, they coax me on. I know my friends will be horrified with me. They don't understand that I have to do this. It's the closest thing I have to relief. To closure. I open the door. A flood of adrenaline sweeps through my body. The hairs on my neck stand on end. I stride through the doorframe with confidence. The look on my victim's face is shock. They ask what I am doing here. I tell the person one word: Revenge.

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Swift cuts are made; screams rip through the air. I focus, calling on my skills to keep myself on task. It mimics what has been done many times through the years. However, this time is different. The rush of power dizzies me. It nearly consumes me. I finally have played out in reality what my imagination conjures up in my dreams.

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Was it worth it? Destroying my destroyer? Is it ever right? Can it be right? Should it be right? I ask these questions of myself. The deed is done; all I can do now is wait to see the events unfold like the delicate petals of a flower. Flowers… She loved flowers. I'll never see her again. Nevertheless, one thing I can see. I'll have to wait outside the house to see it.

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_John Walters sat outside. _An eye for an eye,_ he thought. _A Mrs. and Miss Jane for a Mrs. and Miss Walters. _Normally, someone would be repulsed by the preceding events. However, to Mr. Walters' ill mind, a sense of justice was in order. You see, Mr. Jane unknowingly caused the death of John's wife and daughter. They made the mistake of going to one of Jane's psychic shows, and they were selected to come on stage. A brother very close to Mrs. Walters had died, and she was seeking closure. Mr. Jane had "passed along the message" that her brother wanted to be there with her very, very much, but not to dwell on his death. Mrs. Walters indulged her brother, but not in the way he imagined. Her and her daughter dissolved hemlock in brandy and drank. Mr. Walters found their bodies the next day. Their deaths completely broke him down mentally. The last straw for him was Mr. Jane defaming him on television._

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Now he knows what it feels like. To come home to an empty house. To hear echoes of laughter past. To have life imprison you. Justice has been done. The murderer has been punished. Order is restored. Or has it? My wife…she knew that I hurt people. She knew my nickname, my pseudonym. Even so, she understood me. She loved me. Moreover, I loved her. And that little worm, Patrick Jane, ripped her away from me with his lies, along with the little girl I'd die for. Justice has been done. I think…

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**FYI: I'm not writing any more stories with this plotline. If you hated it, sorry. Usually I write different stories than this. If you loved it, thanks! But I'm not continuing this train of thought. No matter how much you bug me. :D**


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